


Lines Depicting Simple Happiness

by anomalousity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousity/pseuds/anomalousity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was young, Derek Hale was in love with a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines Depicting Simple Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Heh.
> 
> Yell at me on [tumblr](http://buckybaarnes.co.vu/).

When he was young, Derek Hale was in love with a boy.

He was in love with long, bony limbs, with a laugh that rang high and loud above the others, with cheerful smiles and emotions run deep, with sinewy hands and pointy elbows. He was in love with a wicked wit, with challenge dancing through amber eyes, with the promise of adventure curled at the edge of a smile.

He remembers teasing a grin to push sun-kissed cheeks up and to scrunch whiskey-gold eyes. He laughed when he was pinned into the dirt and taunted, “How many moles do you think I have, Hale? How many?”

He remembers scratching his fingers up a bare back and grinning. “Constellations,” he replied.

Derek smiled when the boy laughed and smacked him on his arm. “That’s a bullshit answer, Der-Bear,” he replied. “But I knew you had a sappy streak in you.”

They weren’t conventional; at least, they weren’t like other couples. Scott and Allison kissed before moving on. Same with Boyd and Erica; Isaac didn’t have anyone, but Derek was sure he’d have progressed in his escapades the traditional way.

The first time they made love, Derek kissed down a line of freckles, barely visible, until he couldn’t kiss any further down. The second time, the boy sucked bruises into his neck that his sisters (and mother) laughed at for the days it took them to heal. The third time was their first kiss, and the boy was nervous about it.

“It’s just lips getting all mushed together, right?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t like Derek kissed anyone before then either.

“So, uh, do we close our eyes for this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The boy had his hands planted on Derek’s chest, and his was smiling an anxious kind of smile. Derek wanted to kiss it away, so he did.

And he missed, and bonked their noses together.

After the boy stopped laughing, he pushed Derek back into his bed and leaned down to whisper, “Close your eyes, Derek,” in his ear, before biting at the lobe. Derek closed his eyes. And the boy kissed him. And kissed him, and kissed him. And Derek kissed back.

When the boy pulled away he smiled like he had a secret. Derek didn’t know what that secret was, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, so he ended up rolling them over and kissing the boy breathless until their lips were numb and they couldn’t wait to do other things.

The third time they made love, the boy asked him on a date.

“Jus’ for milkshakes, or somethin’,” he’d said, a lazy smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Sure,” Derek replied.

So they got milkshakes, and ended up making out in the back seat of Laura’s car at the local drive-in.

Oddly enough, it was Cora who’d actually found out he was in a relationship. The boy was over studying for a chemistry final, and Derek was pretending he was writing an essay for his literature class but he was just trying to play footsie under the dining room table. Cora was pushing through the kitchen door when she did this weird double take sort of thing.

Then she smirked and said, “I’m telling Mom you’ve got a boyfriend,” before darting out of the room, yelling for Laura and Mom and Dad and anyone else in the house.

Derek could only sit there stunned, until the boy reached across the table and tugged on his fingers.

“You didn’t tell your family?” he asked, all wide brown eyes with a delicate crease between his eyebrows.

Derek didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he muttered.

The boy just groaned and snatched his hand away before smacking himself on the forehead. Derek didn’t like that; the boy had a habit of hitting himself (or Derek or Scott) whenever he was feeling something a little too strongly.

“Dude, you’re _so_ coming over for dinner tomorrow night,” the boy says, flushing a little. “My dad’s been asking about my mysterious boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek asks, trying not to grin.

“Don’t be like that, he’s going to be touching his gun all night, like _all_ night and ask a bunch of uncomfortable but specific questions.”

“Your dad has a gun?”

“And he’ll use it, buddy.”

Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed for the boy’s hand before he could notice. In the end, his mom and dad came down and told them that Derek seemed very happy lately (which had Derek blushing) and that his boyfriend must be a wonderful young man (which had the boy blushing). Laura just sat down and stared at the boy, all cold, dead focus and no words to dampen it. The boy didn’t dare move an inch, probably out of fear for his life. Derek doesn’t blame him.

The next night they go to dinner at the boy’s house. Turns out, his dad has a gun because he’s the sheriff and, apparently, he knows how to make someone disappear.

Derek considers himself lucky that the guy only touched his gun twice over the course of the evening.

The first time either of them says anything starting with “I” and ending in “you” is when they’re both away at the same college, sharing the same small room in the same shitty apartment. It was on Valentine’s Day; it was really romantic. Derek might have cried (he totally did _not_ cry).

They buy their first house together a few months before they graduate. The boy’s making good money from his internship at a famous clinic where he assists in genetic research; Derek’s interning at an architecture firm and is ultimately allowed leeway on how the house will look.

It’s a week after that that Derek goes back to his home town and asks his dad for his grandfather’s wedding band. Of course his mom hears, and of course she has Laura on the phone in three minutes flat.

“He’s _what_?” he can hear her yell over the line.

“Proposing!” his mom gushes, equally as shrill.

There’s the buzz of someone chattering away excitedly over the phone, but Derek can’t make out anything. His mom is murmuring about June weddings, and about matching tuxedos because Derek, supposedly, would look amazing in midnight blue.

Eventually, his dad gives him the ring and sends him on his way. He makes it back to their place around seven, and finds the boy tapping away at his laptop, _Star Trek_ reruns playing on the flat screen television the boy convinced him to buy a while back.

He walks into the room and presses a kiss to the boy’s hair and grins when the boy says, “Welcome home, honey.”

“It’s good to be back,” Derek replies.

“You fucking sap.”

“Yeah,” Derek hums, before hopping over the couch and digging the ring out of his pocket.

Later, Derek will criticize himself for not making a speech, or even planning out how he’s going to propose to the guy he just so happens to want to spend the rest of his life with. Of course, he will also probably question wearing sweatpants and a ratty Stanford sweater, and the distinct lack of romanticism in the actual execution, but that’s for later.

For now… “Hey,” he says.

Stiles looks up from his laptop with a little frown before shifting his gaze down to Derek’s hands, then back to his eyes with a pinkish tint to his cheeks.

“No way.”

“Stiles-”

“Nope, I’m calling Lydia.”

“Stiles, for fuck’s sake can you sit still for the five seconds it’ll take for me to ask if you want to get married?”

“No because you know the answer to that,” Stiles replies, folding his arms over his chest and looking _this_ close to sticking out his tongue like a petulant brat.

“Stiles-”

And just like that, Derek’s got an armful of lanky twenty-two year old in his lap, pressing kisses all over his face and muttering, “yes, you idiot, _yes_ ,” and Derek’s trying to keep breathing, to stop his heart from beating out of his chest because at this rate, that’s a real risk, and he’s so unbelievably happy that he doesn’t even know what to do.

When Stiles pulls away, he’s got puffy lips. Derek leans up to kiss them again, if only to feel them slide against his own.

Then he slips the ring onto Stiles’ ring finger and smirks.

“What?” Stiles asks, raising his eyebrows.

“You would’ve used Beyoncé,” Derek replies. Then, “You’re not Lydia’s only friend.”

Stiles groans and buries his face in Derek’s chest. “She told you that?”

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s romantic.” Derek can’t help but smile at the thought of Stiles doing the dance and telling Derek he likes it so he’s going to put a ring on it. It’s ridiculous but… well, charming’s a bit of a stretch but it’s the same sort of thing.

“You think everything is romantic, Derek.”

“I guess.”

They sit and stare at each other for what feels like hours but can only be a few seconds, before Stiles is digging his phone out of his pocket and tapping out a message to presumably everyone. When he finishes, he looks up at Derek with a tiny, shy smile. “So we’re really doing this, then?” he asks, all nervous hope and wide-eyed eagerness.

Derek leans forward and kisses the tip of his nose before replying, “Of course, idiot.”


End file.
